


Lost Souls

by Nalyd



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Conspiracy, Elaborate ruse, Gen, Lev is not going to like Kaya, Paliano, Things are not always what they seem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyd/pseuds/Nalyd
Summary: In the back-stabbing city of Paliano, a string of suspicious murders forces king Brago to send out his most loyal servant to investigate. The worshipers of Maliganno are the prime suspect, but to what end? And will they find them before their plan falls into place?





	Lost Souls

**Author's Note:**

> “Lost Souls” is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Eligio walked hurriedly through the tall, dark hallway. He heard no sound apart from the shuffling of his steps, but there was something in the air that made him uneasy. The young man didn’t like coming down here, but the fear of upsetting His Majesty made him quite compliant. Still, he cursed his luck for not finding the mage in their chambers; that would’ve been faster and it would’ve avoided him the trouble of going to the ‘meditation room’, as it had been renamed. Reaching one of the doors on the sides of the corridor, he paused, took a deep breath, and slowly lowered the doorknob. As he entered the room, the air grew colder still. The room in itself was nothing special; it had narrow but long blue walls, and ended in a wide circular space that had a raised platform on it. On the platform sat a cross-legged figure with their back to the doorway. The mage Eligio sought wore elegant robes of varying degrees of blue, red, and white, and decorated with many gems, several of which appeared to be glowing. They had their hood on, but the messenger knew that underneath it were several strands of long, white hair. The mage straightened their back and lifted their head as he entered the room.

“Eligio, was it? What do you need of me?” dozens of spectral voices asked in unison, the echo of their question resounding across the room.

With a shiver, the servant kneeled to the floor: “Lady Levantera, His Majesty King Brago requests your presence in the throne room.”

Levantera rose and pivoted to face the messenger: the young woman’s eyes had been fully white a few moments earlier, but already her purple irises were reappearing. She stood up slowly, coming to a height that would never draw anyone’s attention, and the glowing gems dimmed and the air seemed to warm up a little. She moved lightly toward Eligio, looking down her small yet pointy nose at him. She grinned impishly, her mouth falling into its favorite, most familiar pose.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, her voice back to its regular, high-pitched yet soft tone. She brushed a few stray curls of pure white hair from her heart-shaped face, the pale skin of her usually-covered forearms flashing even in the dim light. “I will be there at once.” Eligio bowed his head once again, then left the room, keeping his back to the hallway as per protocol.

///

“Ah, Levantera, I was beginning to wonder whether I’d see you today.” Brago’s powerful voice echoed through the room. He was not angry with her, but everyone knew how little he liked waiting.

“My King, I left the moment your request reached me,” she said, kneeling in front of the seated spirit. She bowed her head deeper. “I was meditating, Sire. It took the boy more than one attempt to find me.”

Brago lazily waved his hand, dismissing the issue. “Never mind that. Do you know why I summoned you here today?”

“I do not, Sire. Forgive my ignorance,” the woman pleaded.

A smile appeared on Brago’s lips. Out of most of his subjects’ mouths, those words would have betrayed a humbleness and respect forced from their fear of his power. But Levantera wasn’t like that. He studied the figure crouching a few feet in front of him; she didn’t seem to have aged much since he first saw her, aside from her hair, which had gone from jet black to white. Still, something about her had been different back then. Perhaps the fact she’d been wrapped up in white custodi robes, or maybe she just appeared more insecure in those days.

“I would’ve been surprised had you answered otherwise,” he reassured her. “Rise, my good Caller.” That wasn’t her full title, of course, but it was enough to identify her. Especially in a room empty save for the guards at its very edges, but they wouldn’t hear the conversation at Brago’s throne.

Levantera stood and held Brago’s gaze, her arms at her sides, her chin lifted slightly, in what some would have interpreted as a posture of challenge. Brago knew she wasn’t challenging him, however. She was, as always, doing her best to appear as professional and mature as possible. She was certainly more successful at it than she’d been during previous years. He remembered when he first summoned her to the throne room, after he’d noted the young custodi’s potential: she’d fidgeted throughout the whole meeting and could not look him in the eye. At first, he’d thought that she was simply intimidated by his presence—sure he’d been old and frail at the time, but he was still her king—but as he quickly found out by asking a few of his other subjects, she simply had difficulties focusing on something for an extended period of time. Further observations revealed her to also be hyperactive, among other things. Because of this, Brago always tried to limit their official meetings, as he knew that they put a lot of strain on her.

“It appears as though there is a peculiar series of ongoing assassinations in the lowlands,” he started. Levantera stood motionless, betraying no emotion, except for a small twitch of her lip.

“Normally I wouldn’t ask you to investigate them, as I have other subjects whose job is to do exactly that, but, as I mentioned, the killings are… unusual,” he continued. Levantera raised her eyebrows.

"There seems to be a pattern. For the past five days, at some point during the night one of my officers has been killed. Their body is typically found the morning after, surrounded by symbols drawn in blood. Not only that, but the victims all had an expression of surprise on their faces, I’m told.”

“You want me to ask them what—,” she blurted out. She caught herself mid-sentence, covering her mouth with her left hand, eyes widening in surprise.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” she uttered with a deep bow.

“No apology necessary, Levantera. You’re allowed to speak,” the king reminded her.

“Of course, Sire,” she whispered as she stood back up.

Brago took a long, slow breath. He closed his eyes as something like a memory stirred in his mind. Some might’ve found it difficult to believe but, if anything, it should’ve been him showing his respects to her. It was thanks to her that he was alive, after all. He remembered when he’d first talked to her and confirmed his suspicions about her magical potential.

“So you can talk to spirits, young custodi?” he’d asked the orphan in a feeble voice, still in his mortal form.

“Well, yes,” a teenaged Levantera had responded, fidgeting. “Some of them are more helpful than others. I can’t force anyone to do anything,” she’d clarified in a hurry, “but sometimes I can help them solve their problems and move on, and other times they decide to stick around for a while.”

“Are there any spirits with you right now?” he’d asked, curious. Perhaps those of her parents, he wondered. Although they weren’t necessarily dead... the girl had simply been abandoned as an infant.

“No, Sire. I need to meditate in order to reach them.”

Brago chuckled. Who would’ve known, at the time, that the girl’s knowledge of the other side would’ve helped him remain on this one? It had been a good idea indeed to have her take part in his treatment. Without her aid, the custodi’s medications may not have proved so… effective.  
He opened his eyes and looked again upon the adult Levantera. Many things had changed now; she was more confident in her abilities, or at least did a good job at faking it. She had vastly improved her ability to call upon friendly spirits, after learning to enchant gems to link herself to a specific individual. He’d also promoted her; she wasn’t a custodi now, she had her own title. For a while now she’d been known as Lady Levantera, Caller of the Lost. It had a nice ring to it while also effectively specifying her role. As a result, he was quite happy with it. And so was she, judging from the excited squeal she’d made when he told her.

Oh, and, of course, she had grown quite powerful. She didn’t possess much brute force, but in time she’d learned to tap into the power of the spirits, and eventually even started learning abilities they held in their lifetime.

“My King? Is… everything alright?” Levantera asked, after waiting for nearly a minute in silence.

“Ah, yes. Yes, everything is alright,” Brago replied as he finished reminiscing about the past. “Where were we? Right, as I was saying, I want you to see what you can find out about these men’s deaths by talking to their spirits, assuming that they haven’t all left this world for good.”

Levantera took a bow, her right arm held stiffly across her chest. “Your wish is my command, Sire. Is that all?”

“Not quite. We don’t know who is behind these murders yet, but we suspect followers of the demon Maliganno to be responsible. Mostly because they’re known to perform sacrifices in rituals that are quite… messy, shall we say. If it is indeed them, perhaps we’ll finally manage to locate and stop them.”

Levantera’s face went from to disgust to firm resolution. “My King, I will do everything I can to eradicate this threat from your realm,” she said decisively.

“Good. This task could be dangerous, so you will be accompanied by officer Berkano and his troop in case you find yourself in a confrontation. They will be outside the Palace in one hour. Don’t keep them waiting,” he concluded solemnly.

Levantera took another deep bow, then walked backwards towards the exit.

“Oh, and, Levantera?” he said as she reached the door.

The wizard’s eyes shot back up at him. She gulped. “Yes, my King?”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said in a paternal tone.

Levantera responded with one of her devilish grins. “You betcha!” she yelped before dashing out the door.

Brago relaxed in his throne. A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You betcha...” he said to himself. “Perhaps that could replace Yes, Your Highness. There’s always room for improvement, after all.”  
He drew a long breath and called for his guards. It was time to get back to business.

///

The sun was already nearing the horizon when a small group of cloaked figures arrived at the bottom of the stairs that connected the High City to the rest of Fiora. A few clouds drifted lazily as hundreds of humans beneath them bustled around, finishing their errands before dark.

“Aw man, getting to the Lowlands is always so tiring,” Levantera yawned as she stretched her arms and back. The stairs were indeed quite long, plus she was carrying the additional weight of her sword. It was a rapier, but after several hundred steps it might as well have been the greatsword of a giant.

“That’s because you don’t get enough physical exercise, young lady,” said a voice to her right. The air shimmered and the ghostly form of a woman appeared. She was in her sixties, with long, white hair that floated in the air and a face that had been hardened by her many years spent fighting, but could still show compassion. She donned the same armor and sword that Levantera’s escorts wore, except hers outranked them.

“No amount of training is ‘enough physical exercise’ for you, Ludovica,” Levantera reminded the spirit with a tired smile. The seven soldiers glanced back at her. They couldn’t see the ghost, but could sense some sort of ripple in the air coming from her. Accustomed to Lady Levantera and her menagerie of otherworldly presences, they refocused on the road ahead of them and made way through the streets of the lowlands.

“Still,” the ghost remarked as she floated next to the mage, “you have to admit that you could be less tired right now. Look at the soldiers that are accompanying you: they don’t look nearly as exhausted as you are.”

Levantera rolled her eyes. It was true, of course; none of the five men and two women showed any sign of fatigue. Still, though. She didn’t have as much time to dedicate to physical training as her friend would’ve wanted. Sometimes she could get a little too insistent, but Levantera knew she meant well.  
She glanced back at the spirit as they walked. Ludovica had been the first soul to decide to stay back even after fulfilling the task that kept her anchored to the world in the first place. After her only family member, her husband Stivano, holder of a prestigious position at the Academy, had been assassinated in a power play by another nobleman, she stormed her enemy’s house armed with nothing but her twin blades, a little bit of magic, and thirst for revenge. For an entire hour she’d fought, destroying all his defenses and hired swords, before finally collapsing at his feet due to exhaustion. Her spirit seeked to finish what she’d started, so, with Brago’s permission, Levantera helped her. In the end, Ludovica had killed him.

Whether she’d been motivated by fury or by pity (many of those who knew the way enemies of the crown lived in prison chose death over a lifetime of… well, whatever it was that went on down there) was still unclear to Levantera. After all was said and done, the former lieutenant of the royal guard had grown to like the girl, and decided to stay and help her however she could.

Levantera smiled, lost in thought. Ludovica was many things to her: a friend, a mentor, a trainer… sometimes she was even a bit like a mother. In fact, several of the spirits that had chosen to stay with her were older than her and had become a mentor of sorts to Levantera. She bit the inside of her lip; had she seemed so helpless to them that they’d stayed behind because they thought she needed them? Surely it couldn’t be that. Or could it…?

As they moved further away from the High City, Ludovica kept an eye on her friend. She appeared to be deep in troubling thoughts. She began counting seconds; if she got to a certain limit, she’d know something serious was bothering Levantera.

Fortunately, it appeared to be just one of her moments of introspection; an elegant tapestry at one of the bazaars caught her eye and she spent a few minutes swooning over every detail of it, the soldiers patiently waiting for her to finish.

Ten minutes later, the contingent arrived at the site of the latest murder.  
Levantera eyed the small, wooden building with suspicion. “What were they doing over here at night?” she asked.

“This is a small armory, Milady,” Berkano, a grizzled giant of a fifty year-old man with broad soldiers, a missing eye and thick beard, replied as he approached the door, “they must’ve come here to stock up on ammunition, or perhaps they needed a new weapon.”

“Halt! State your business,” the guard at the front of the entrance commanded, lifting her left hand.

“Commanding Officer Berkano and troop, escorting Lady Levantera. We’re here to inspect the scene of the crime,” the soldier answered.

“Come right through. I should warn you, though, the last person I let past me is still in there.”

“I didn’t know His Majesty sent someone else as well,” Berkano inquired, suspicious.

“That’s because he didn’t,” another voice added from behind the guard. As she moved aside, a figure emerged from the doorway.  
The elf was wearing her usual attire: a light-brown musketeer hat with golden trims that let her raven hair descend freely onto her fur boa. A maroon jacket with glistening gold embroidery enveloped the majority of her body above tough leather pants. Gloves covered her hands and careworn boots her feet, identical in colour to the array of belts that supported her backpack, traveling gear, and her usual assortment of weapons. In her left hand she held a double-headed axe, but her dagger, crossbow, and hand-and-a-half sword certainly weren’t far.

“ _I_ decided to investigate,” she added with a tone that didn’t admit any replies.

The soldiers and Levantera bowed. “Pardon us, Lady Selvala, we didn’t mean to question your authority,” Berkano said respectfully.

“You’re forgiven. Now stand up, you know I care little for formalities,” Selvala replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Lady Selvala, did you find anything worthy of note?” Levantera asked, stepping forward.

The elf appeared to size her up. “You’re… Levantera, right? Brago’s personal murder detective? I don’t believe we’ve ever formally met before, even though I’m sure I’ve seen you before at the palace,” she inquired with a smile, offering her hand.

Levantera shook it enthusiastically. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Milady.”

“Please, just call me Selvala. Now, why don’t you come inside? You might be able to make some sense out of what happened,” the explorer told her, turning to go back in the building.

“Wait,” she halted, causing Levantera to stop in her tracks and the guards to grab the hilt of their swords. “The scene inside is pretty grim. Can you handle it?” she asked, looking back.

Levantera let her shoulders relax. “I must. But don’t worry about me, I’ve seen my fair share of dreadful things.”

“Very well then, grab a couple of your soldiers and let’s go,” Selvala concluded, passing through the doorway. Levantera waited for Berkano to spout a few commands at his troop, then he and another soldier joined her, and together they entered the poorly-lit armory.

///

The armory itself was nothing out of the ordinary. There were several blades left of the entrance, a few trunks next to the back wall, and crossbows, bows, and ammunition to the right. Everything seemed to be in its place.

Well, except for the dead man on the floor. And the blood.

It was everywhere: on the floor and on the walls, bright crimson lines curled and unfurled in a vast array of puzzling shapes and symbols. Even though it had been almost an entire day since the man had died, the blood seemed fresh.

Levantera cautiously stepped over it and made her way to the body that lay in the middle of the room. The man had been in his late forties. He had very short black hair, a small nose, eyes that were presently closed, and he was wearing the robes that went with his position. There was also a large gap in his torso, and the floor could be seen through it.

As she gazed at it, she noticed the soldier was lying on a pattern of blood: a pentagon encompassed the man’s upper body. There was a small circle of blood at each of the vertexes, one of them located right below the man’s missing chest, and a sixth one in the middle of the figure, which happened to be right under the man’s head.. It reminded Levantera of a halo, in a weird, twisted way. She hoped the man had died painlessly.

“I have no idea what any of these mean, aside from being bad news,” Selvala admitted. “Maybe you can make some sense of it by asking the man himself.”  
Levantera nodded and sat down on the floor, trying her best to avoid touching any blood. As she crossed her legs and closed her eyes, she steadied her breathing and concentrated.

As she projected her mind into the region where life and death meet, she noticed an unusual sense of pressure that made her uneasy. It felt like someone was pushing against her forehead in multiple points. She swallowed. Her presence in the realm of undeath felt constrained, and she couldn’t feel any other being. She tried extending her senses forward, but the pressure increased and forced her to fall back.

Levantera’s eyes snapped back open. “I can’t do it,” she muttered, breathing heavily, “something’s interfering, but I don’t know what.”

“Could it be, say, the glowing patterns of blood?” Selvala commented.

Levantera looked around. The blood was indeed glowing, though it had begun to dim.

“That’s definitely what’s doing it,” Ludovica sighed as she appeared at Levantera’s side.

Levantera gasped. The light her friend emanated was as feeble as ever, and she looked exhausted. “Ludovica! Are you alright?”

The spirit sighed again. “I’m fine, thanks. It just took a lot of energy to appear.”

“Is that shimmering in the air one of your spirits?” Selvala asked, curious.

“Ah, yes,” Levantera answered, having almost forgotten about the elf, “she said the blood made it difficult for her to appear. It must be linked to some sort of enchantment.”

“About that,” said Berkano, causing everyone else to turn towards him, “uh, if I may steal your attention for just a moment. Not all of the blood was glowing,” he said, pointing at the corpse.

Levantera noticed he was right: the pentagon that surrounded the man’s upper body had not brightened up. Not only that, but now that she took a closer look it didn’t seem as fresh as the rest of it.

“Huh,” Ludovica commented, “big Berkano’s right.”

“So it’s probably not involved in the enchantment,” Selvala mused. “But then, what’s its purpose?”

“If it’s not magical, then maybe… it’s a symbol?” Levantera suggested.

“But… for what?” the second soldier asked.

“Soldier boy’s asking the real questions ’round here,” Ludovica commented with a smirk.

“I… I don’t know.” Levantera admitted.

Silence fell over the room as everyone stared at the mysterious symbol, trying to uncover its meaning.

Levantera quickly spaced out, the symbol’s shape reminding her of the intricate shapes she’d seen on the tapestry earlier, and the smell of the store, and the brightly colored trinkets that were on display, and hadn’t she seen an object like that orange bauble somewhere? That’s right, her instructor at the orphanage had something similar always on his belt. She recalled sitting at a large table with other children as their teacher spouted information about Paliano’s history and geography, while Levantera gaped at the maps of the city they had to work on, her gaze wandering aimlessly along the roads of the miniature High City…

“A map!” she yelled, startling everyone else in the room. “Does anyone have a map of the Lowlands?”

“Never travel without one,” Selvala muttered as she reached in her backpack and pulled out a rolled up parchment. Levantera snatched it out of her hands and frantically opened it up on the floor.

“Berkano, quick!” she whispered, “where did the other four die?”

The colossal man kneeled as he scratched his beard, pensive. “Well, let’s see, I think it was… at this place over here, near a tavern over there, in an alley there and in the square right here,” he mumbled, pointing at each place he mentioned.

Levantera placed her hand on the map and cast a small spell. A circle appeared around each of the five locations, then lines that connected every ring to the closest two.  
The result was a pentagon with circles at its vertexes.

“Call me impressed,” Ludovica commented with a low whistle.

“You owe me a new map now, you know,” Selvala smirked, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, but what does this mean?” Berkano asked. “Why do the locations form this figure? And why—”

“Lady Levantera, _what_ is the meaning of this?” another voice shrieked, demanding attention.

A second ethereal form manifested fully into the air next to Levantera. This one was a short man in his seventies with curved posture, maroon eyes that constantly darted all over the place, short hair that shot upwards in front and a disgruntled expression permanently stamped on his face. He was wearing a pair of reading glasses and formal white robes. “What’s with this place? Manifesting here takes so. Much. Effort!”

“Who’s this and why can we see him?” Selvala whispered to Levantera.

“Oh, stop whining, Cosimo,” Ludovica interjected while also fully manifesting in order to be seen and heard by the living, “we’re in the middle of a thrilling mystery here.”

“Selvala, Berkano, Tiziano, these are two of my spirit friends: Ludovica, former lieutenant of the royal guard, and Cosimo, former cartographer and overseer of Paliano’s expansion,” Levantera explained hurriedly.

Cosimo took an exaggerated bow while Ludovica saluted formally. Selvala, Berkano and Tiziano stiffly returned the favor.

“I see now that someone put a spell in place that interferes with our realm,” Cosimo acknowledged. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

The cartographer listened closely as Levantera relayed the essential information to him. “Anyways,” she mumbled at the end, “we still don’t know what this could mean.”

“Hmm, yes, I see,” he muttered pensively, stroking his chin. “But have you considered that… the symbol on the map is not complete?” he asked with a grin.

Everyone turned to look at the bloody symbol, at the map, and then back at the symbol again.

“Would you mind being a little more specific, four-eyes?” Ludovica sneered.

“Hmph. Well, there’s more than a mere pentagon surrounding that poor man,” he elaborated. “As you can see, there’s also a circle right in the middle of it.”

Berkano squinted in concentration: “Wait, so that means-”

Levantera slammed her hand onto the map and the final ring appeared, at the center of the pentagon. Everyone leaned in to get a closer view.

“I know where that is. It’s a pretty abandoned area, actually. There should be a few empty storehouses and such,” Cosimo explained.

“Sounds like a perfect place for a gathering,” Selvala mused with a fierce grin.

“You think they will all be there?” Levantera asked.

“Seems likely to me,” Berkano answered. “This string of murders may have been in preparation for something bigger. They may come together for something... uh, bigger,” he concluded.

Ludovica frowned. “The murders have been one day after the other. If that’s the case, they may be gathering right now. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Very well,” Berkano said, straightening himself, “we need to act right away. The cult of Maliganno has many acolytes. Tiziano, we need to gather as much royal support as we can while we make our way there. Me, you, and the rest of the troop are going to get other soldiers to lend a hand.”

“Make haste,” Selvala added, adjusting her hat. “I will scout the area, and hopefully won’t have to intervene until you arrive. I will be waiting,” she concluded as she made her way towards the door.

“Berkano, I’m coming with you. My position is high enough that we should get the help we need immediately,” Levantera said.

“Yes, Milady.”

“We’ll meet up with you as soon as possible, Lady Selvala,” Cosimo told the explorer as she left.

“Yeah, don’t get yourself killed, in the meanwhile!” Ludovica shouted after her, garnering herself a pair of nasty glares from Cosimo and Levantera.

“Likewise!” the elf shouted back with a giggle. Then she was gone.

“Alright, then,” Levantera muttered, taking in a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

///

There was a new moon that night, leaving the world in utter darkness. The dark, barely visible shapes of abandoned buildings imposed their eerie presence on the surroundings. Their looming, sharp-edged demeanor blocked off pieces of the night sky as if someone had clawed out the stars and left only a black void. All around, darkness reigned supreme.  
With one exception.  
There was a single, vast warehouse, standing by itself, that emanated a low, flickering light from its doors and windows, almost as if it contained a giant candle.

Inside the old building was a sight most Fiorans were unfamiliar with. Along with the multitude of lit candles and torches, hundreds of hooded figures with long, black cloaks crowded the area, all looking in the same direction.

The focus of their gaze was a marble table on a platform that was elevated slightly above ground level. A small group of people, all of them bearing red sashes on their cloaks, stood in a circle around it.  
The only noise that could be heard was the shuffling of robes and the crackling of flames. Then, somewhere a door slammed open and three more acolytes spilled into the warehouse, carrying a limp man in their arms. The other cultists made room for them in order to reach the altar and deposit the nearly naked man onto the stone, before retreating into the crowd.

One of the acolytes with a sash, a tall, tan man with a thick, black beard and a scar across his nose, stepped forward, stopping in front of the table. He extended a muscular arm to check the man’s pulse, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He took a long look at his victim, an olive-skinned aristocrat with brown, curly hair. He was wearing only a brown cloth about his hips. The cultist sneered. This was what happened to those who allied themselves with Brago.  
The high priest then turned around to face the crowd.

“My brothers and sisters!” he shouted confidently, his gravelly voice echoing through the warehouse as if the stones themselves were shifting. “The moment we have all been waiting for has finally arrived!” A wave of excitement rippled through the gathered acolytes.

“After much preparation and sacrifice, tonight is the night we restore our great lord to his full power!” Many cheers and shouts of approval resounded across the room.

“Under the might of our master Maliganno, Brago’s kingdom will crumble to pieces, and nothing will be left to oppose the reign of our dark lord!” he yelled to the jubilant cultists.

“Let us make haste, then,” he concluded, pulling out a large, stained knife from his flowing robes, “for Maliganno has waited far too long already!”

As he turned back to face the sacrifice, Ciriaco raised his knife and secretly held back a tear. Now he would finally make Brago regret what he had done to him.  
What the accursed king had done to his family.

Tightening his grip on the dagger, Ciriaco began the ceremonial incantation. The other high priests and the rest of the cultists joined him.  
The rhythm of the chant accelerated as it neared its climax, with the entire room of acolytes fervently reciting it with him. But with his mind intent on the invocation and the volume of the demonic hymn steadily rising, Ciriaco failed to notice a high-pitched hiss that got closer and closer.  
Until it hit him.

///

Still clutching her crossbow with both hands, Selvala watched the man crumple to the floor. The chanting stopped immediately.

 _Talk about good timing_ , she thought to herself as she heard dozens of hurried footsteps nearing the warehouse.

As the acolytes frantically tried to wrap their mind around what had just occurred, Selvala decided to give them a hand by stepping fully into the building.

“So sorry to interrupt your party,” she announced, mimicking deep sorrow, as a sea of black hoods turned towards her, “but our friend Maliganno says he can’t make it tonight. Or _ever_ ,” she added with a cold edge to her voice, raising her crossbow.

Berkano appeared at her side with a handful of guards, breathing heavily but resolute. “In the name of Brago,” he announced, unsheathing his sword, “you are all under arrest! We have this building surrounded!”

Groups of soldiers appeared at the different doorways, weapons at the ready.

Levantera arrived in that moment, red-faced and panting, with a troop opposite Berkano and Selvala. “Surrender and… you won’t be… we won’t hurt you!” she managed to gasp, placing her hand on the rapier’s hilt.

In response, the cultists pulled out their own blades.

“Lay down your weapons!” a soldier commanded from an entrance on the other side of the warehouse.

“Never!” an acolyte called back.

Then all hell broke loose.

The two factions roared with all their might as they collided in multiple points, with the soldiers entering from all the doorways and their enemies defending themselves in a large group. Berkano was on the frontlines, grunting and cutting down enemies with his trusty greatsword.  
Selvala preferred to stay at a distance, perched atop the entrance to the building, taking down knife-wielding fanatics one careful bolt at a time.

As she took aim for the umpteenth time, a flurry of motion caught her eye. The high priests were back at the altar, knives in hand, trying to compete the sacrifice. She cursed.

There were several of them, they might been able to complete the ritual before she could take them all out. Trying not to panic, she scanned the battlefield and found Levantera, dodging and stabbing with deadly precision alongside three armed spirits. One of them appeared to be Ludovica.

“Levantera! We need to stop the ritual!” Selvala yelled.

Levantera yanked her bloodied sword out of her opponent’s throat and lept back, allowing soldiers to press forward in her stead.

She dismissed her ethereal fighters with a flick of her wrist. Then, focusing on the altar, she extended her arms and cast a spell, the gems on her clothes glowing with the power of the spirits. Suddenly all the high cultists twitched as the spell fell upon them and then they stood frozen.

“I won’t be able to hold them forever!” she yelled, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

Selvala looked back at the battlefield. Though the soldiers were outnumbered, the cultists were not very efficient fighters. Still, the conflict appeared to be far from over.

 _This needs to end now_ , she thought, leaping down and into the guards’ midst. As she made her way to the frontline, she reached into the world around her, gathering the mana necessary to cast her spell.

By the time she got to Berkano and the others she radiated power.

“Get back!” she ordered with a tone of voice so authoritative that even some of the acolytes listened.  
As the soldiers gave her room, the explorer released her built-up energy and bellowed as she hurled her spell forward.

A massive fury of tusks and gray skin descended upon the hooded men. Those that weren’t squashed immediately panicked as the elephant made its way towards the center of the crowd, unfettered by the tiny creatures it crushed underfoot. Following its wake, Berkano and his troops pushed through, perforating the enemies’ defences. Selvala went with them, using her axe and dagger to make short work of those who stood in their way.

Faced with numerous groups of soldiers on the outside and a humongous beast accompanied by a troop of armed men on the inside, the cultists were thrown into complete disarray, rapidly losing ground and lives on both fronts. Handfuls of hooded men and women abandoned their weapons and begged for mercy, while those who still fought were swiftly eliminated.

In under a minute, the battle was finished.

As the soldiers took prisoners and counted the bodies, Selvala vanished the elephant, then rushed to Levantera’s aid, axe and dagger still in hand, only to find the mage sitting at the base of the altar, patiently cleaning her rapier while she hummed a tune.

The bodies of the high cultists surrounded the sacrificial stone, their own knives embedded in their chests. The would-be sacrifice appeared unharmed.

Selvala looked back and forth between the dead and the living.

“Wha…?” she managed to whisper.

“I made them do it,” Levantera said matter-of-factly while she absent-mindedly gazed at the sword, her right hand running the limestone across the blade. “It was a matter of wills,” she continued. “Mine against theirs. It appears mine were stronger.”

“You made them… kill themselves?” Selvala panted, gazing down upon the Caller.

Levantera dropped her limestone. “I had to,” she whispered without looking up. “They were still trying to kill him and were beginning to break free. I had to stop them. I didn’t want to, but this was the only way. I didn’t _want_ to, ok?” she said in an accusatory tone, raising her voice. “But I had to. I had to… take over their bodies and… and make them… ah!” she yelped, yanking her hand away from the sword and dropping it on the floor with a loud _klang_.

Her glove was torn and her hand was bleeding. She’d gotten carried away and gripped the blade.  
Levantera stared down at her open palm for a few moments, then tears started to make their way down her cheeks.

“I… didn’t want to do it,” she repeated through clenched teeth. She cupped her face in her hands and sobbed.

Selvala felt a lump in her throat. Sitting down beside Levantera, she gently rested her hand on the mage’s shaking shoulder.

“It’s alright, Levantera,” she tried, “you did what you had to to save this man’s life. And ours. You saved everyone, Levantera. You did great.”

Levantera lifted her head and looked at Selvala. Her face was smeared with blood and tears, and her eyes were red.

“Really?” she managed, still choking back tears and struggling to control her breathing.

“Yes, really,” Selvala replied. “I know you would’ve preferred things to go differently, but you made the right choice. Don’t blame yourself for events you can’t control.”

Levantera sniffled. “Alright,” she said with a short nod.

“Lady Levantera, Lady Selvala,” Berkano called as he limped closer. “our men are almost done—” he stopped in his tracks. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concerned.

 

“Yes. Yes, Berkano, I’m… I’m quite fine,” Levantera said with a wry smile. She looked down at her bleeding palm and sighed. “This really aggravates me,” she murmured.

“Milady, allow me to treat your wound,” Berkano offered with a short bow.

The mage eyed him for a few seconds, then she shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but you’re hurt as well.” She slowly stood up and recovered her sword, sheathing it. “It has gotten late. We will rest in the Lowlands tonight and tend to our wounds, and tomorrow morning we shall depart to return to our king, in the High City. Berkano, how did our troops fare?”

The man cleared his throat. “The operation was quite successful, we haven’t suffered any losses, although many were injured, some severely so. Those that were in extreme conditions have already been taken away to be healed.”

Levantera scanned the battlefield with a tired expression, then nodded. “Very well. We’ll leave the task of returning lord sleepyhead here,” she gestured at the altar, “to his home and identifying and burying the dead to the local guards. Me, you and your troop should get going.”

“In that case, I will alert the men. We’ll be ready in just a minute,” he replied before bowing and marching off.

Levantera looked back at Selvala, who was still sitting. “What about you?”

A bitter smile appeared on the elf’s lips. “Paliano is too dangerous for me: the Custodi still want me dead. I will return to my home, for the moment being.”

Levantera exhaled slowly, the pain in her hand demanding more attention by the second. “I see,” she whispered. “Then this is where we part ways.”

Selvala stood and dusted herself off. “For the time being, it is.” She grinned. “Doesn’t mean we’ll never see each other again.”

“Good point,” she said with a smirk.

“Well then,” Selvala said with a serious tone of voice, “Lady Levantera, it has been an exquisite pleasure.” She held out her hand.

Levantera shook it. “Likewise, Lady Selvala, likewise,” she replied with an exaggeratedly somber demeanor.

The two burst out laughing, then Levantera unexpectedly hugged Selvala.

“Thank you,” she told her new friend.

Selvala gently patted her on the back. “If you ever need help, you know where to find me,” she reminded her.

The two gently broke the embrace. “I’ll hold you to that,” Levantera said with a wink.

“You better,” Selvala shot back. “Now go get patched up, I wouldn’t want you to lose all your blood.”

Levantera giggled and ran off to join Berkano and his men. Before exiting the warehouse, she turned back and waved at Selvala, who returned the gesture. Then she was gone.

As the explorer turned and left the building, her smile faded.

Levantera was young, and Paliano was, regardless, a dangerous place for anyone. She hoped the girl would be alright.

And with that thought, she vanished into the velvet night.

///

Prospero waited for the soldiers to leave before climbing down from his hiding place. He’d positioned himself so that he’d have been able to murder the sacrifice before the rite’s completion and escape out a window, but fortunately that hadn’t been necessary. After landing on the floor of the warehouse, he stretched and silently exhaled. Not that he wasn’t patient, but he’d been stuck in the same position for quite a while.

As he made his way to the exit, he mentally went over the report he’d be giving to his employer. The Cult of Maliganno had been successfully manipulated into attempting the ritual, yes, but she already knew that. Unfortunately, the bloody enchantment they placed at the crime scenes stopped the Caller from doing her job. It would’ve been a shame if Prospero failed to succeed in a solid fifty percent of his objectives (not to mention that his pay would’ve drastically decreased as well), so, naturally, he had to get a little creative. He thought about the blood pentagons and smiled. Mother had always said he had an artistic side.

The end result was that it would be at least another fourteen hours or so before the Caller returned to her king’s side and that the cult of Maliganno was eliminated, along with the threat it posed to the stability of the monarchy. As an added bonus, he could relay information about Selvala’s movements.

Prospero grinned as he strode along the empty streets of the Lowlands, the crunching of gravel under his feet the only noise to be heard. The Black Rose was going to be quite satisfied.

///

Levantera sprinted up the stairs to the throne room, every muscle in her body burning with exertion. Her injured hand throbbed with every heartbeat. She’d been running for several minutes, since she saw the first flag with the rose on it, while she was returning to the palace. No warning, no hint, no nothing, suddenly everything had Marchesa’s filthy symbol on it. She didn’t know what had happened, and she probably didn’t want to know, but one way or another she’d get her answer in the throne room. As she reached the doors to the stone room, she took a moment to breathe. Then she slammed them open and entered.

The room felt different than usual. Maybe it was the drastic and complete change in interior decoration. Perhaps it was because the wretched symbol was everywhere.

Or maybe it was due to the queen of crime, the assassin, the murderer, the accursed Black Rose herself, sitting on the throne.

“Marchesa!” Levantera screamed, enraged, as she stepped forward.

“I prefer My Queen or Your Highness, if you don’t mind, dear,” she politely answered. She wore several layers of colorful (and expensive) garbs, a plethora of jewels, Brago's ghostly crown, and was as calm as ever.

“How _dare_ you sit there, wearing that?” she spat, poison dripping from her every word.

“Our beloved Brago passed away. I was the successor designated by his will,” Marchesa said with a twisted smirk.

Levantera extended her arms toward her enemy, red sparks dancing across her fingertips: “If you think I’m going to believe that, you—”

“I’d think twice about trying anything, _Caller_. Look around.”

A noise caught Levantera’s attention, leading to the discovery of two guards, one on either side of the doorway. They both had a crossbow leveled at her, their sights trained on her unarmoured body.

Levantera reluctantly lowered her arms and extinguished her spell.

“Glad you chose the civilized option,” Marchesa said, nodding.

Levantera glared at her, but offered no words in return.

“Now then. I’d like to make you a little offer,” the queen continued. She called a servant and had him bring a small chest, which he dropped on the floor in front of Levantera.  
“Go on, open it. I promise it won’t kill you,” Marchesa said playfully, her tone a smug purr.

The mage silently opened the chest and pulled out its contents: a robe almost identical to hers, but mostly black, with some red and white thrown in as ornamentation. There was also a black rose woven onto its right shoulder.

Levantera looked up at Marchesa, still holding the robe as revulsion welled in her throat. “You expect me… to work for _you_?” she asked, incredulous.

Marchesa tilted her head, looking offended. “Well it’s either that or a cell for the rest of your life, sweetheart. You’re a useful figure, I admit, but you’re nowhere near as well-known as Adriana. If I get rid of you, the people of Paliano simply won’t care.”

Levantera angrily threw the robes on the floor and stomped on them. “How’s that for an answer?” she asked, panting.

A tight smile appeared on the sovereign’s lips. “Eloquent,” she said coldly. “Guards, take-”

Lightning fast, The mage threw her arms out sideways and the two soldiers froze. Then they shot each other.

Levantera looked back at Marchesa and smiled fiercely as the guards collapsed to the floor with a yelp. “Now it’s your turn, you trash,” she muttered, raising her arms once more. The gems on her robes began to glow and swirls of red and white formed around her fingertips.

Marchesa's lips curled into a wicked grin. It was a smile of genuine delight, the same smile that appears on a little kid’s face when he’s about to stomp on an ant. “Oh, my turn? Wonderful!” she chimed.

A sharp, agonizing pain hit Levantera in the back. Losing her concentration, she stumbled forward and landed on the black robes.

“Here lies Levantera,” Marchesa began passionately reading from an imaginary tombstone as she walked towards her victim, “who was given the chance to finally amount to something in life and wasted it. Alas, she was slain by a lone arrow, cast by a third guard, perched upon the window above the entrance.”

Levantera’s body began to shake as the liquid the arrow had been doused in spread through her bloodstream. She managed to look up, locking eyes with Marchesa. “I… won’t… l-let you…” she mouthed, convulsing.

“I’m sorry, you won’t let me what?”

“Get… away with this!” she screamed as the pain became too much. There was a bright flash of white, followed by a sensation of weightlessness, and then Levantera collapsed into darkness.


End file.
